


We'll Call This What You Like

by Idzzdi



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Blow Jobs, Crushes, Fluff, Funny, M/M, Misunderstandings, Modeling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-03 05:06:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5277773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idzzdi/pseuds/Idzzdi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>an AU where Louis and Harry are both models and Harry has a bit of a crush on Louis, assumes all the wrong things and has no shame whatsoever</p>
            </blockquote>





	We'll Call This What You Like

**Author's Note:**

  * For [broken_bravery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/broken_bravery/gifts).



> What a lovely promt this has been! I had a gazzilion options to choose from, so I hope this turned out the way you envisioned it to be. :)
> 
> Big shoutout to my crew from the Larry Whatsapp groupchat with the constatly changing name - thanks for all the positive reinforcement and the help finding the title! You all rock!

It's loud and hectic. There are people yelling everywhere; some in English, some in other languages Louis vaguely recognizes and some making sounds that only remind him of the hairy thing from Star Wars. Chewbacca or whatever.

In the mids of all this chaos Louis is trying to stay as calm as possible, to even out his breathing. He closes his eyes for a short moment and takes a last long deep breath in and out before attempting to pull the tightest pair of trousers he has ever seen over his bum without ripping them apart. Okay, so maybe they're not the tightest pair he's ever _seen_ , but they're certainly the tightest pair he's ever had to wear on the job. It's not particularly fun to be, what some people in the fashion industry crudely call, plus-size. That plus-size of course means plus the extra extra _extra_ small all the other models wear, while still being much slimmer than the British average man.

Louis has long gotten over the fact that he's not the most ordinary model. He's got a bit more curves than most male models and almost all of his coworkers tower over him a good bit. (Which Louis likes to ignore. He's 5'9'', which is above average for British men by the way, not that he looked it up on Google or anything.)

He's got the face to make up for all of that though. He's doing what he loves, makes more money than he can spend and was in the top 5 of hottest men alive last year, so what does he have to complain about, really?

Those tight trousers, right.

They're ridiculously small and would fit very tightly even on the person they were supposed to go on. Of course that person had to get the stomach flue and so Louis has to present twice as many outfits as planned on Burberry's fashion show during this year's London fashion week. He shouldn't be complaining really, but the decision was made mere thirty minutes before the start of the runway show and the clothes are two sizes down Louis' regular size. All the others models who would have actually fit those clothes are apparently incapable of improvising, so Louis has to do it.

God, he just _loves_ his job and the people connected with it.

There is one person he genuinely does love connected with the job, actually, and the man is walking towards him in this very moment.

“Louis,” Zayn says with a voice that would sound dull to a lot of people but Louis can tell that's Zayn's beyond excited. “Have you heard who's here?”

“Cant' talk,” Louis chokes back, breathing shallowly, his stomach still sucked in all the way. Zayn gives him a mildly concerned look, his eyes scanning over Louis' body. He reaches out to the paper tag left on the hanger the trousers Louis is currently wearing were on before with a frown on his face.

“When did you go down two sizes?” Zayn asks, the frown still shadowing over his face.

“Didn't,” Louis gasps back. He's getting short on air, but he's had the trousers on for over a minute now and hasn't fainted yet. The runway is not all that long and Louis should be able to make it all the way down there and back within less than a minute.

Sucking in his stomach one last time, Louis starts fumbling with the zipper, pulling it down quickly. He tugs the trousers down a bit, just past his bum, exhaling loudly.

“Lovely,” Zayn comments unimpressed, looking down at Louis' exposed stomach where the hem of the trousers left angry red lines on Louis' smooth skin.

“Yeah, well,” Louis sighs and rolls his eyes. He leaves the trousers where they are, still halfway down his legs and tugs on the shirt he is supposed to wear together with them. “Randy or whatever his name is got sick and I have to wear his clothes now,” Louis explains. “ _As well as_ my own,” he adds quickly, giving Zayn a pitiful look.

“Poor, Lou,” he says, looking as unfazed as ever. “Only making twice as much money in the same work time. Must be horrible, but anyway,” he chats right on, looking more excited again. “Guess who's here!”

“Santa?”

“Seriously, Louis,” Zayn says with a sigh, tugging on the hem of Louis' shirt. It's a lot more loose than the trousers and will hide the fact that the trousers are much too tight on Louis. Zayn keeps tugging on the shirt, much to Louis' annoyance, his eyes sparkling dangerously.

“I have no idea, Zayn,” he huffs, snatching the fabric of his shirt from Zayn's hands. Zayn gives him a mildly sour look and reaches out to twist his nipple through the fabric of the shirt.

“Jesus,” Louis gasps, batting Zayn's hand away. “You're gonna get it all wrinkled and shit,” he complains.

“ _He_ 's here,” Zayn says with emphasis, completely ignoring Louis' complaints about the shirt. In return Louis ignores Zayn's statement, instead rubbing over his sore nipple and the wrinkled fabric above it. He's going to get in trouble for wrinkling the shirt and he'll need to get it steamed before he heads out onto the runway. Also, he still needs to try on the second outfit he'll have to wear spontaneously and there's mere twenty minutes left until the start of the show.

“ _He_ is here,” Zayn says again, elbowing Louis' sharply.

“Who the fuck are you talking about?” Louis asks back with a sigh, scanning the room quickly, but not noticing anybody of importance.

“He, whose name shall not be named,” Zayn says with a pointed look. Louis just blinks at him.

“Zaynie, I don't know which of your beaus of the week showed up here, but I'm certain that it's non of my concern. I'm not even sure why you show up for these shows,” Louis rants on, but Zayn silences him with a long look.

“It's _not_ one of my whatever you just called it. It's he, who is, as you called him, your mortal enemy. He who got the Gucci campaign you really wanted, remember?”

“Shut up!” Louis snaps at him, clenching his teeth. _Harry Styles_ of course. Harry Styles who is stupidly annoying with his stupid everything, getting all the jobs Louis really fucking wants. A year ago Louis made the cover of GQ, accompanied by an article about who stereotypical male beauty is so 2013 and how unconventional male traits are _it_ right now. Next thing he knows tall, stupidly handsome Harry Styles pops up and is the new face of every single campaign Louis set Zayn on to get for him. So much for unconventional beauty standards.

Louis doesn't recall explicitly calling Harry Styles his mortal enemy, but he might have been drunk or Zayn might have been reading between the lines. Or both. Probably both.

It doesn't matter though, because Harry Styles is here, probably ready to rain all over Louis' parade. Suddenly he's very glad he gets to work twice as many outfits, that'll put Harry Styles right back into his place.

But for now he has to keep it cool.

“Cool,” he says after a long pause, giving Zayn a painfully relaxed and impassive look. Zayn doesn't buy it, unfortunately.

“Cool?” he asks, his eyebrows cocked ridiculously.

“Yeah, cool. I don't care,” Louis says with a shrug. Zayn's eyebrows wander even higher, his lips slowly forming into a smirk.

“You don't care? Well good, because he just came up to me and asked me to introduce you two,” Zayn says, placing a hand on Louis' shoulder, laughter evident in his voice.

“Shut up,” Louis snaps again, shrugging Zayn's hand off. He reaches down to tug off the shirt he's wearing right now to change into the second outfit. He really doesn't have time for Zayn's weird sense of humor.

“Lovely,” Zayn snickers again and then calls a bit louder “Harry, champ!”

Louis freezes mid motion, the shirt just above his head, still caught around his neck. He can't see anything, but he can feel Zayn shift next to him, saying a chuckled “Good to see you, man,” and a timid, low “Yeah, hi,” in reply.

Louis rips the shirt off over his head, not caring about the carefully structured hairdo the stylist gave him earlier. He blinks twice and then focuses in on the broadly grinning character in front of him. It's no other than Harry Styles, his hands sheepishly tucked into the pockets of his trousers.

“Mate,” Zayn says, his voice wavering dangerously close to laughter as he claps Louis onto his naked back once in a friendly manner. Louis suddenly remembers his state of undress, no shirt and his trousers still pulled down to the knees. What a great time to meet _Harry Styles_.

“Um, hi,” Harry Styles says, holding out his right hand for Louis to shake. “I'm Harry Styles. And I know who you are, of course. You're wonderful,” he rushes out. Louis blinks at him again, his cheeks feeling the slightest bit warmer, but Harry Styles doesn't seemed the least bit embarrassed by his own statement.

“Well,” Louis starts awkwardly, taking Harry Styles' hand to shake it. “Nice to meet you, Harry Styles.”

“Likewise,” Harry Styles says immediately, squeezing Louis' hand firmly. “You're a great inspiration to the male model industry. I really admire your work!”

Louis shoots a quick side glance at Zayn, who looks like he's about to burst with how bad he needs to laugh out loud. Louis is not sure if he feels like laughing, or if he should feel offended by Harry Styles making fun of him.

“And all the work you do for charity, too,” Harry Styles tacks on. “I love the fact that your work for a better educational system that includes sports and a healthy diet. It's so important to show people what a healthy, happy body looks like instead of starving yourself half to death. You're a truly great role model.”

The sincerity in Harry Styles' words makes Louis' cheeks feel even hotter and takes another look back at Zayn who's gone dangerous shade of red himself.

“Um, thanks?” Louis replies dumbly, crossing his arms in front of his chest, to at least achieve a feeling of coverage. “I truly am a great person, aren't I?” he jokes flatly, but Harry Style' eyes only twinkle even more.

“You are,” he says with a nod. “I've been waiting for a chance to work with you for almost a year now, I'm really glad we finally get to walk the runway together.”

“Um yeah, likewise,” Louis nods dumbly.

“Anyway, I don't want to keep you from anything. I'm sure you've got loads of important stuff to do,” Harry Styles says with a apologetic glance at the load of clothes hung up behind Louis. “I'll see you around, maybe? The afterparty? Or get your agent to call me,” he adds with a quick glance towards Zayn, “if you ever need another male model to do something with you. Like a job, I mean, or, yeah. If you don't have anybody else to like, you know,” he finishes off a bit absent-mindedly, wringing his hands together behind his back.

“Um, sure,” Louis says, feeling a bit like he just got hit by a train. But he shakes Harry Styles' hand again and waves him off a moment later. He is barely gone out of sight that Zayn bursts out laughing like a maniac.

“Oh, my, god,” he heaves between laughs, holding himself up against Louis' shoulder. Louis must admit that the situation had been pretty bizarre and if it had happened to anyone but him, he'd be right there laughing along with Zayn. However, the situation unfortunately happened to him and nobody else, so he just gives Zayn a sour look.

“Five minute warning!” someone calls in the background and Louis curses loudly, shakes Zayn off of his arm to change into his first outfit, without having tried on the last one yet. It'll just have to do then.

Zayn is still giggling beside him, his cheeks red and his pupils blown, like he's been smoking.

“This is the best day ever,” he laughs, unimpressed by Louis' sour looks. “He asked me to introduce you two, and I was this close to saying no and making up an excuse, but god,” he starts laughing again.

“So what, he has a crush, let him be,” Louis huffs, buttoning up some trousers that actually fit quiet comfortably.

“He has _crush_?” Zayn asks rhetorically with a laugh. “He thinks you hung the bloody moon and stars! Must have memorized your Wikipedia page or something. I mean, not even I know what kind of charities you donate your money to.”

“That's cause you don't give a shit about others,” Louis says dryly, trying to dismiss the topic. He needs to be up at the runway in probably three minutes.

“I'm your manager slash agent!”

“You're my personal assistant at the most,” Louis huffs with a laugh.

“Details! I'm the one making your schedule and, listen closely, not even I know what kind of charity you donate to! And he does! Write! Him! An! Autograph!” Zayn emphasizes, trailing after Louis as he starts walking towards the backstage area of the runway.

“Piss off,” Louis tries to dismiss him, waving his hand in his face.

“We're not done talking about this!” Zayn says loudly and _god_ , Louis hates the only person he loves in this industry.

“I hate you,” Louis calls as he stalks away from Zayn.

“You love me! I'll be front row to the right, come find me after this,” Zayn calls back and Louis nods slowly, smiling to himself as he takes the last couple of steps up towards the runway.

 

~

 

Louis rocks the runway, of course. But while two walks are stressful enough, four are almost killing him. It's not a particularly long night, but it's one and a half hours of pure stress and it feels like it's much longer than that. After he's off the runway it takes him another two hours before he's free of makeup and back in his own clothes and has answered a couple of questions from those reporters he couldn't shake off at all. He goes to find Zayn then and together they decide on an early night in rather than going to the afterparty.

Life goes on normally after that. Louis does jobs here and there and doesn't pay Harry Styles any extra attention, hard as that may be. Zayn has taken to informing Louis of all the jobs Harry Styles gets and of all the jobs Louis gets that Harry Styles auditioned for as well. Harry Styles gets Gucci again and also Omega, but Louis gets to keep the Burberry shoot and also he gets Vans, because apparently Harry Styles' aesthetic doesn't fit theirs and that's information enough to keep him pumped up for an entire week. But like he said, he's not thinking of Harry Styles at all.

That is of course until Zayn comes around on Saturday night, ready to pick Louis up for some party he has to show his face at. It's the opening of a new club and getting his face out there in the tabloids appears to be helping him keeping the image that makes him compatible with the big brands. Or so Zayn says at least. On nights like these Louis just has the feeling Zayn wants to go and wants to no go alone, so Louis has to show his pretty face. Louis doesn't really mind though.

He's already dressed and almost ready to go by the time Zayn shows up.

“ _He_ 's going to be there,” Zayn says in lieu of a greeting, only squeezing Louis' shoulder quickly before he bypasses him, heading straight for the kitchen. Louis can hear him rummaging through the fridge, for beer presumably, and contemplates acting like he doesn't know who Zayn's talking about.

“And don't act like you don't know who I'm talking about,” Zayn tacks on when Louis' silence lingers for too long.

“I don't know who you're talking about,” Louis says instantly, following Zayn into the kitchen and accepting the beer he's being passed.

“Very funny,” Zayn says dryly, clinking his bottle against Louis' and takes a long drag. Louis follows suit, grinning at his friend.

“Just thought I'd tell you in case that made you wanna change outfits or something,” Zayn says with a waggle of his eyebrows. He's really annoying, Louis thinks.

“And why would that make me want to change my outfit, which is outstandingly amazing, by the way?” Louis asks, cocking his hip against the counter in the kitchen.

“Oh, I dunno,” Zayn says, leaning against the counter right next to Louis. “Maybe because he fancies the fuck out of you and you could _easily_ get a good lay out of this with minimum effort?”

“And whose says I want to get laid? By him too?” Louis asks coolly, and Zayn gives him a skeptical look.

“I'm gonna ignore the first question, and the second one, really? Why _not_ him? He's ridiculously good looking and word on the street is he's well endowed, too.”

“What streets have you been hanging around in? Do I need to worry about your heterosexuality?”

“Fuck off,” Zayn scoffs, shoving Louis's elbow playfully. Louis takes another drink from his beer and then takes off towards the bathroom to fix his hair before they head out.

“No but seriously,” Zayn starts as he trails after Louis, following him into the bathroom and taking a seat on the edge of the bathtub. “He'd be so _easy_ and proper good publicity, too, you know? Everyone's talking about him right now.”

“Zayn, no,” Louis says with a sigh, hands running through his hair.

“Why not though?”

Louis will admit, he has to think on that one.

“He _talks_. So much!”

“All I've ever heard him say were praises about how amazing everything about you was, don't tell me that doesn't do it for you,” Zayn says with a slow smirk at the end.

“Very funny,” Louis replies dryly with a shake of his head.

“You could always gag him,” Zayn puts in dauntingly after a minute's pause. “Proper hot that would be.”

“Good publicity, too?” Louis asks with a stern look a Zayn, who makes a face.

“Meh,” he says waving his hand around carelessly. “Depends on how we deal with it. Try not to drop a sextape on the first night though, maybe.”

“Thanks, pal.”

“I can be your PR person, too. Zayn Malik, Louis Tomlinson's manager slash agent slash personal assistant slash PR person,” Zayn says, counting along his fingers with slow nods.

“That'd be a proper long business card.”

“We could just put that I'm your _everything_ ,” Zayn suggests laughing. Louis only groans in return and finishes off the carefully drafted quiff he's been working on.

“Drink up,” he says as he picks up his own bottle again. “We're heading out before you can come up with more crazy ideas.”

“Are you gonna go for him?” Zayn calls after him as Louis already trails down the fall of stairs, ready to pull on some shoes and a jacket.

“No, shut up,” he says and with that the topic is done for the night. Or at least for him it is.

Not for Zayn it is though, apparently, because from the spot by the bar Louis has taken up a while ago, he has been watching Zayn chatting to the Harry Styles for the past couple of minutes. They appear to be getting on swimmingly and Zayn laughs and nods at everything Harry Styles says. Louis can see what he's doing. Zayn's trying to get Harry Styles to do  _something_ , or else he wouldn't be this smiley or touchy with him. Louis is a bit afraid what it might be that Zayn wants.

Another couple of minutes later he finds out, when Harry Styles slides up next to him onto a chair by the bar.

“Hey Louis,” he drawls lowly, leaning in a bit over the loud music. Louis makes a face at Zayn across the room, shaking his head a little bit, before slowly turning towards Harry Styles.

“Hello Harry Styles,” he says without leaning forward. The boy chuckles at him with bright, amused eyes.

“You can call me Harry, you know,” he murmurs. Louis can't tell if he's slurring or if he's just dragging the words a bit to make them sound sexier. Which they don't, of course, not that Louis noticed.

“Great, Harry,” he says with a curt nod.

“So,” Harry prompts, sliding his elbows closer towards Louis and leaning onto them, so their faces are only inches apart. “How've you been?”

“Good, thank you,” Louis says slowly, trying to lean back without Harry noticing and leaning even closer. “Um, you?”

“I'm very good, too, thank you for asking,” Harry nods, lacing his fingers together a bit uncoordinatedly. “So..?” he drawls again and Louis only raises his eyebrows at him.

“So, what?”

“Zayn said you wanted to speak to me? Buy me a drink, too, maybe?” he asks coyly, grinning a sheepish grin. Louis has to really control himself to stop him from rolling his eyes where Harry can see. He lets his gaze wander towards Zayn shortly and gives him a deep glare before he turns back towards Harry.

“Well, if Zayn said so,” he says half-heartedly, which Harry doesn't seem to notice. “What are you drinking?”

“Been drinking a bit of everything,” Harry admits and this time he's definitely slurring. “A lot of everything actually,” he tacks of with a drunken giggle. A fucking _giggle_ , which Louis doesn't register as cute or anything similar. Not at all.

“A glass of water then, maybe?” he suggests and it's only half a joke when he sees Harry swaying dangerously with the movement of his tall bar stool.

“What do you take me for, a baby?” Harry asks, looking as outraged as he probably gets. “I'll have whatever you're having,” he says then, motioning toward the glass in front of Louis.

“Vodka Tonic?” Louis asks with raised eyebrows.

“Sounds just like my kind of drink!” Harry grins broadly. Louis is skeptical about that, he pecked Harry more to be the kind of person to order bright fruity cocktails, but he doesn't say anything about that and instead waves the bartender over to order Harry his drink.

As the bartender is preparing Harry's drink Louis' mind wanders as he thinks about exit strategies. He's making up plenty of great excuses, but when he checks his watch the next time almost an hour has passed and somehow Harry just ordered the next round for them. They're both on their third Vodka Tonic now and Louis is surprised how well Harry stomachs the alcohol, considering how unsteady he was on his feet before the even started on these drinks.

It's been an okay hour too, Louis has to admit. Harry is fucking weird and talks endlessly with no point in his stories, but he's good company anyway. Zayn disappeared to god knows where, so it's not like Louis has a lot of other options anyway.

Another half hour later Louis has to put a limit to the number of drinks Harry keeps ordering and gets them both a coke instead. Harry either hasn't noticed yet that the drink is alcohol free or he doesn't mind really. It's gone past four in the morning by now and Louis is starting to get tired. Without the adrenalin from dancing rushing through his body, alcohol always makes him sleepy instead.

“Hey,” he calls across the bar, trying to gain Harry's attention, who has been trying to lure some free shots from the bartender. “It's getting late,” Louis says and Harry nods immediately.

“Yeah okay, let's head out,” he says, finishing his coke and then getting up from his chair, reaching out for Louis' hand. Louis is a bit perplexed, but lets him take it anyway, dragging him through the club.

Outside the club the fresh air hits them like a brick wall and Louis takes a few deep breathes, feeling the rest of the alcohol rushing through his head. He drank more than he thought he had, but he's not unsteady on his feel like Harry is. The boy is hanging onto Louis' hand rather tightly, swaying back and forth a bit.

“Okay, cab,” Louis mumbles to himself, taking a quick step towards the street, where several cabs are already lined up and waiting for the people stumbling outside. He kind of forgets that Harry is hanging onto his hand and the boy nearly brains himself on the ground when he stumbles forwards, still hanging onto Louis' hand.

“Steady,” Louis mumbles to him, leaning him up against the cab door as he speaks to the driver. He has to promise that Harry's well enough not to vomit in the backseat and while Louis is not too sure that's actually true he needs to get the boy home one way or another. How much can the cleaning be anyway?

So he wrestles Harry in the backseat and buckles him up.

“'m sleepy,” Harry slurs, nodding off every other moment.

“Okay Harry,” Louis starts saying loudly, giving his cheeks a couple of light slaps to gain his attention. “I'm gonna need your address, or else this lovely man can't drive you home.”

Harry's reply is nothing but a gargled noise that makes absolutely no sense to Louis.

“Harry!” he says again, sternly, shaking his shoulder a bit.

Harry mumbles back something about sleep and then starts snoring.  _Great_ .

Louis looks towards the front to the driver who's giving the two of them some very suspicious looks.

“Um,” Louis starts dumbly. His head is doing some nice spins of his own, but compared to Harry's passed out state he's feeling great. He can't leave Harry here, but apparently he can't get Harry to his home either, because how the fuck is he supposed to know where he lives? After a long moment he makes the executive decision to round the car and get into the cab as well, giving the driver his own address, in hopes that during the drive Harry will sober up enough for Louis to coax an address out of him.

Louis thought wrong though, because as soon as the cab stops in front of his building Harry startles out of his sleep, blinking confusedly at the driver for a moment.

“We're here,” the driver says and Harry takes that as his cue to get out of the cab. He stumbles out of the cab and promptly throws up into the bushes in front of Louis' building. Lovely.

Louis sighs and scrambles out behind Harry, putting a tentative hand on his back.

“Um, okay,” he starts lamely. “Are you feeling better? I'll, uh, need your address,” he says carefully.

“Don't think I'm taking that one back into my cab!” the driver calls from behind the wheel.

“Ugh,” Louis sighs, sending a quick prayer to whatever god may be listening. How has this become the end of his night?

After a few moments of contemplation he goes to pay the driver and then collects Harry, who's leaning against the wall of the building now, looking like death on legs.

“Right, um,” Louis says to him, shrugging lightly. “You can kip on my couch, I guess. Not like I have anywhere else to leave you.”

Harry only smiles in reply, his eyes unfocused and Louis is pretty sure he won't remember any of this in the morning. So he drags Harry up into his flat and sits him down onto his bed. Louis goes to collect a blanket for Harry, since he wont grant Harry to sleep in the bed with him, and a bucket to throw up into, in case he needs it during the night. When he returns to the bedroom however he finds all of Harry's clothes discarded on the floor and a sleeping, and presumably naked, boy in his bed under the covers.

“Fuck you,” Louis says loudly, marching over towards the bed, but there's no waking Harry up. Louis shakes his shoulders and says some not very nice words, but the boy is out cold.

“ _Fuck_ _you_!” Louis says again, setting down the bucket next to Harry on the ground angrily. “I hope you know I won't take the couch now, just because you, may I add _rudely,_ claimed the bed!” Harry shows no reaction at all.

“Would probably enjoy it, too, wouldn't you? Stupid idiot,” Louis curses on as he heads into the bathroom to brush his teeth and change into a pair of ratty old shorts and a shirt, that's too big on him. He keeps on mumbling angrily when he gets back into the bedroom and climbs into bed next to Harry. It's been a long time since Louis has slept with someone and barely knowing the person makes it even more awkward.

“'m so gonna kill you when I wake up,” Louis mumbles angrily before turning over and turning off the lights.

 

~

 

The first thing Louis thinks when he wakes up has nothing to do with killing Harry. He wakes up achingly hard, trying to recall what exactly he had been dreaming of to get him this close to orgasm, even after he's startle out of sleep. It takes him a moment to notice that he's not starting to feel less turned on, like it usually is when he wakes up from a heated dream, but quite the opposite actually. He's hard and hot and approaching his orgasm fast when he realizes that someone is sucking his dick.

It's by far not the worst feeling in the world, but it does come as quite the surprise and Louis panics for a moment before yanking off the duvet from the head bobbing up and down under the sheets right above his crotch.

“Harry, fuck,” he curses when he sees him down there, bending down over Louis, his back curved upwards lushly and his lips swollen and red around Louis' hard cock. “Fuck, fuck,” he keeps cursing and Harry sort of smiles around the head of his dick before taking him back in all the way, until his nose is pressed against Louis' pubes. He starts cursing for a whole other reason.

“Jesus,” he whimpers when Harry starts palming his balls too and not even a minute later he's coming, pulling on Harry's hair and hissing loudly into the otherwise quiet bedroom. Harry swallows all of Louis' cum and then kisses up his sensitive shaft lightly before crawling up Louis' body, hovering over him. He places his elbows next to Louis' head and pecks his cheek sweetly. All Louis can do is stare back, his brain still useless from the incredible orgasm he just experienced, so he doesn't think he can be judged too hard when he kisses Harry back, once the boy starts lapping into Louis' mouth.

“You got quite some stamina for someone who just went the night before,” Harry compliments with a smirk and Louis has no fucking idea what he's talking about.

“Okay,” he replies timidly and Harry laughs into his mouth.

“Come join me in the shower?” he asks with a lazy smirk playing across his lips. He pecks Louis' mouth one last time and the rolls off him, standing next to Louis' bed with absolutely no clothes on. Lord, word on the street certainly has it right, Louis is quite impressed. Not that he's looking in that direction or anything.

Harry notices him looking and gives him one last confident grin before wandering off into the bathroom and a moment later Louis can hear the water turn on.

“What the fuck just happened?” he asks into the empty room and unfortunately gets no reply at all. Slowly, as the aftermath of the orgasm fades, Louis regains full brain function and fuck. Harry Styles just woke him with a blowjob, naked. And now he's in Louis' shower, naked, after he's slept a night in Louis' bed, naked. It's the beginning of the end, basically.

He considers sneaking out, but remembers they're actually at his place, which only makes it ten times more weird. He's going to have to live here, remembering what just happened. The least he can do is make tea. That'll clear everyone's heads up, certainly.

Half an hour later he's sat in his kitchen, a mug of steaming tea in front of him. He put on some clothes and tried to do  _something_ to his hair, quite unsuccessfully too, since Harry was occupying the bathroom for the longest time. Just after Louis adds the milk to his tea Harry stumbles into the kitchen, a little pout on his lips.

“You didn't come join me in the shower,” he complains quietly stepping up next to Louis and reaching out for his mug.

“I wasn't-” Louis starts, desperately watching as Harry takes a big gulp of _his_ tea.

“I had to finish me off by myself,” Harry goes on and Louis can't help but go a bit red. Too much information, but looking back on this very short morning it's not the only line that's been crossed. The line that's being crossed right now certainly being that Harry is drinking all of Louis' tea. And that's some line crossing Louis can still do something against.

“You could have your own mug,” Louis suggests, making grabby hands towards his tea.

“Thanks, but I got no time, sorry love,” Harry excuses. “Didn't plan on, um, this, and I have a thing with my agent in like half an hour, so I need to go.” He looks apologetic, but gives Louis a soft smile.

“I stole your number from your phone and also put mine in yours, in case you wanted to call,” he says lowly, one of his huge hands settling against Louis lower back.

“Okay?” Louis replies dumbly. He feels like he woke up on the wrong side of the bed. That feeling is confirmed when Harry sets Louis' now empty mug back down, bends forward for a long lingering kiss and then grins at Louis happily as he steps back out of the kitchen and calls his goodbyes as he lets himself out of the flat.

Louis hears the door fall shut and looks down at his mug.

“What the fuck,” he says into the now completely quite flat. He decides to head back into bed, maybe next time he gets up the day will start more normally.

 

~

 

 

The next time he gets up nothing has changed. There is no one sucking his dick this time, but instead there's someone aggressively ringing his doorbell. Louis crawls out of bed, rubbing his eyes as he stumbles through the hallway toward the door.

“Yeah?” he mumbles into the intercom sleepily.

“Louis?” he hears Zayn ask, then a pause. “Did I wake you up?”

“Yeah,” Louis mumbles back and he can hear Zayn laugh through the intercom as he buzzes him in. Half a minute later Zayn comes into view on the stairs leading up to Louis' apartment.

“Morning,” he mumbles, opening the door for Zayn to come inside. Zayn complies and gives him a soft squeeze before toeing off his shoes and heading for the living room. He flops down onto one of the couches and Louis follows suit, flopping down next to him.

“You slept late,” Zayn says uselessly as he cards his hands through Louis' sleep mussed hair.

“Was up late,” Louis shrugs in reply.

“When'd you leave the party anyway? At some point I was looking for you and you were just gone.”

“You mean at some point after you left me by the bar with Harry Styles?” Louis asks, still too sleepy to put much bite into the statement. Zayn chuckles in reply.

“Did you buy him a drink?”

“More than one,” Louis complains. “Couldn't get rid of him once he started talking.”

“Hmm, and how awful was that?” Zayn asks in a tone that implies that Louis might have actually enjoyed himself.

“Very,” Louis say forcefully. “Proper ruined my night and everything.”

“Did it?”

“Yes,” Louis nods stubbornly, ignoring Zayn's snickers.

“Well, whatever you say,” he finishes off, which leaves Louis to believe that there are no pictures of them stumbling out of the club at early hours in the morning. If there were Zayn would have found them and he would be teasing Louis mercilessly.

As for what happened this morning, Louis isn't even sure if it really did happen, so it's certainly not worth mentioning to Zayn.

 

~

 

A week later Louis really, really wishes he told Zayn. He's in an emergency PR meeting with his real PR people right now, but Zayn is there too and he looks properly disappointed and a lot confused, too.

So some things went out of hand, but Louis seriously had nothing to do with that. Harry started constantly texting him sometime during the last week and well, Louis didn't  _not_ reply, but he also never messaged Harry first, because what the fuck were they even doing? In the end though there was not a lot of 'messaging first', because looking back now they probably texted constantly anyway.

Okay, so he texted Harry every now and then and he quite enjoyed the quirky little videos he sent him. But in absolutely no way is he responsible for nor is he privy of Harry telling some reporter that they're apparently dating. As in exclusively dating, the boyfriend kind of dating.

Normally Louis would put if off as the press' speculation, somebody making up a 'close, but anonymous' source just to write an exclusive article about some bullshit, but this time it's different. There's a video. A video of the interview and Harry is looking relaxed and grinning widely when the reporter asks if he's been seeing anyone lately. His grin only widens when he replies “Yeah, actually. I've recently started going out with Louis, um, Louis Tomlinson,” he confirms when the reporter asks after the name. “We met on the job,” Harry goes on “One thing led to another and now I got him tied down,” he grins and laughs together with the reporter before they change the topic to something else.

Now Louis has got his entire team looking at him with big, expectant eyes.

“This is going to sound really fucking stupid,” he starts helplessly, “but I have no idea when any of this happened.”

“So you're saying you don't know this man?” a random guy in a horribly fitting suit asks him.

“No, of course I know him. I just wasn't aware that, um, apparently we're dating?”

Zayn is only blinking at him dumbly, his eyebrows furred like he's trying to figure out if Louis is lying or not.

“So you're not romantically or physically involved with this man,” the suit-guy says, his voice going up slightly at the end of the statement. Louis looks nervously from him to the other people in the room and then down at his hands.

“Let me rephrase that,” the man says after a long pause, “Are you or have you ever been romantically or physically involved with this man?”

Louis looks up at that question, his eyes meeting Zayn's. Zayn has a small smile on his lips now, his eyebrows quirked up, like he's daring Louis to say that he and Harry are in fact involved.

“Um,” Louis mutters, biting his bottom lip. “Maybe? I dunno. Can I maybe talk to him about this?” he asks desperately and then flees from the room, Zayn hot on his heels.

“Louis Tomlinson,” Zayn says exasperatedly, grabbing Louis' elbow and pulling him to a stop. “What the fuck is going on?”

“I don't know,” Louis whines, running his hands down his face.

“When did you sleep with him?”

“I didn't, I swear!” Louis calls, looking back at Zayn. “I.. After that party,” he starts and Zayn's mouth twitches up into a smirk immediately. “It's not like you think,” Louis defend himself.

“Please, do tell,” Zayn says with a laugh still holding onto Louis' elbow.

“He drank so much at the party, I tried to get him home. To _his_ home! But he was passed out cold and couldn't even tell me the address and then he threw up and it was a bit weird, so I thought he could crash at my place. So we sleep and then I get woken up by, like.. he's fucking _blowing_ me and I don't know why okay!” he ends in a rushed whisper.

“He blew you?”

“Yeah, right there in my bed. And he, like, kept kissing me.”

“And you just.. let that happen?” Zayn trails off suspiciously.

“Well, I was kind of out of it, because he sucked my brain through my cock, also I was still hungover and _also_.. word on the street is not incorrect, in case you wondered.”

“And when during all of this did you see his cock?”

“He slept naked,” Louis explains simply.

“And you got real close for a good cuddle, or how exactly did it go?” Zayn teases, smirking at the heat rising in Louis' cheeks.

“Fuck off, I know it sounds stupid. But help me with the problem at hand, maybe?”

“He thinks you're dating,” Zayn states unhelpfully.

“Yeah, looks like it.”

“Have you been keeping in touch?” Zayn wants to know and Louis bites his lip. Saying out loud that he and Harry have been texting constantly after a shared night and a morning blowjob makes dating sound not as far off as it really is.

“Kinda, I dunno,” Louis shrugs awkwardly, trying to avoid the question.

“You should probably talk to him about that,” Zayn puts in helpfully.

“Yeah, probably,” Louis agrees, because Zayn isn't wrong. Talking to Harry about their misunderstanding is probably the best way to go about this. It doesn't make the call any easier.

“I'll- I'll call him. See if he can meet up, probably best to talk it out in person,” Louis says mostly to himself, but Zayn nods anyway, claps his shoulder once and then walks down the corridor they had been standing in to give him some privacy. Right, okay.

He stalls for a few more minutes, trying to come up with reasons why right now is the worst possible time to call until he reminds himself that he's a grown man and deals with his problems maturely. Or something close to that at least. It doesn't matter because it makes him hit the call button eventually.

It rings for several times before Harry picks up, a cheerful and drawn out “Hey,” ringing in Louis' ears.

“Um, hi, hi,” he stutters out, taking a deep breath.

“Good to hear from you,” Harry hums with a low, content noise. “You good?”

“Yeah, yeah doing good. You?”

“Hm, too. Got in a bit of trouble with my agent for telling that interviewer about us,” he laughs lightly. “But, you know, it'll be news for one day and it'll wash over, like always.”

“Right,” Louis interrupts, before Harry can go on into a rant. “Listen, about that..” he starts, but trails off aimlessly.

“Yeah?” Harry asks, perking up a bit. “You don't.. you don't mind that I told them, do you? Because if you do.. Fuck, shit, I'm sorry,” he rushes out quickly, sounding genuinely apologetic. “Fuck, I should have spoken to you first, shouldn't I have? I was just so excited, first proper boyfriend and all. I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, Lou, I-”

“No, listen Harry,” Louis interrupts him again. “I- Um.. I'm not mad you told the interviewer that, um..” Fuck, how does he tell Harry now that they're not dating? Especially when suddenly it doesn't sound like sure a horrible idea anymore. It's certainly something they need to speak about, but Louis doesn't want to scare Harry off to the point of no return.

“What's up, darling?” Harry asks and Louis is surprised by how good the pet name feels.

“Um,” he starts carefully, taking a deep breath. “I, well, I wasn't aware that we were, you know.. dating. Together. Like, you and I. Yeah.”

There is silence on the other end of the line for five very long seconds.

“Did you not-” Harry starts, but cuts himself off quickly. Louis can hear him take in a deep breath. “I'm sorry, I, I, I just.. If you didn't want to, I will them right now, really. I'll tweet something about how-”

“No,” Louis says right away. “I mean.. I didn't say I didn't want to, just.. I didn't know. Um..” There's silence on both ends for a few long moments.

“How did you-” Louis starts, then stops again and starts new. “Why exactly did you think we were, you know, exclusive? Sorry for asking this, but I'm just.. really surprised is all.”

“Oh, um,” Harry hums for a moment, then sounds embarrassed. “I, uh, don't have much experience with this boyfriends thing, but like. Isn't that how it goes? You chat someone up, you sleep with them and then you text and talk. I just- I thought we were a bit too old for the whole ' _Do you want to be my boyfriend?_ '-thing. But that's..” he trails off, sounding unsure.

“Yeah, no,” Louis begins. “I- That doesn't sound too far off I guess, but.. I mean, we never had sex,” Louis finishes bluntly, because he's at a loss for words how to put it differently.

“We- after the party we-” Harry stammers, sounding unsure. And that's when Louis realizes: Harry doesn't remember a thing that happened that night.

“You don't remember,” he says, half amused, half surprised. “You don't remember what happened after the party.” He doesn't say it unkindly, but Harry makes a quiet whimpering noise on the other end of the line.

“I-” he starts, shakily breathing out. “The club. The last thing I remember is the club and then I- I wake up, naked, next to you. What was I supposed to think?”

“Oh my god,” Louis rushes out, laughing lightly. “No, no, that's not what happened. I would never do that, you were so drunk. I tried to get you home, to _your_ home actually. But you were kind of, um.. uncooperative. And then you threw up in my bushes, stripped naked, took over my bed and were out cold before I could convince you of anything else,” Louis tells him, laughter accompanying his story. It's hilarious telling it, thinking about what Harry thought had happened.

“Oh god,” Harry sighs mortified. He sounds like he might faint, so naturally Louis has to make it worse.

“And then I wake up the next morning to what I must say was a really good blowjob. A bit unexpected, but nevertheless very good. Ten out of ten, would do it again. Then I get some really nice morning kisses, you drink _all_ _my tea_ and now I've apparently gotten myself a boyfriend,” he finishes off quickly with a satisfied grin. Harry groans painfully on the other end of the line.

“Why are you even speaking to me? I've made a complete fool of myself!” he cries, making a pitiful noise.

“I think it's hilarious,” Louis tells him confidently. “It totally just made me want to actually be your boyfriend ten times more,” he says, before he can think better of it. Harry audibly lights up at that.

“Really?” he asks breathily.

“Course,” Louis admits, all caution thrown to the wind. “You're quite the catch, Styles. You're weird and quirky and assume the weirdest things. On top of that you have strangely open relations with the press, but other than that.”

“Are you serious?” he asks, sounding delighted and maybe a bit surprised.

“Yes, of course. Do you need me to spell it out to you?”

“I- Yeah, maybe,” Harry admits, chuckling quietly. “You know, I don't want to assume anything that wasn't explicitly said, so..”

“You're a funny one,” Louis tells him with a shake of his head. “Fine. We have not had sex. Yet. You give great head, would totally do it again. You're not so bad as a person either. We should go out some time. Got all the facts?”

“Yep, loud and clearly. Took some notes too,” he says slyly. “Can 'going out sometime' be tonight?”

“Eager, are we?” Louis teases, mentally running through his schedule for that night.

“Maybe,” Harry replies coyly. “What do you say, I'll take you out to dinner? Something fancy and expensive enough I won't dare to make you get me drunk to get rid of my nerves?”

“So that's what you were doing?”

“Maybe,” Harry drawls again. Louis has a feeling the coy and sly card works well for the boy. “So, what do you say?”

“Dinner, sounds good. Maybe afterwards I can join you in the shower, too. Remember that?” he asks with a grin, enjoying the groan he gets from Harry in return.

“God, please don't remind me.”

“But it's so much fun!”

“It's not, please. Don't ever mention it again, don't even say those words in the same sentence,” he groans painfully.

“Not even if I plan on actually joining you in the shower?” he asks, just as coyly as Harry before.

“Don't make promises you don't plan on going through with,” Harry warns with a warm chuckle, making the statement sound like a request of more.

“We'll see,” Louis replies, smirking to himself. “Dinner first, be a gentleman.”

“I think we're well past gentleman like behavior, don't you think?”

“And whose fault is that?” Louis asks with a genuine laugh.

“God, shut up,” Harry groans.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Well, well, well. Hope you liked it :)


End file.
